Corruption - a Merlin Fan Fic
by Comsical
Summary: What happens when Arthur finds himself able to communicate with spirits? Worse yet, what happens when Merlin loses his magic...only to find out that in a terrible twist Arthur has it? Rated T, only for fantasy violence.
1. Chapter 1 - Captive

"I'm not sure what I would do without you, Merlin."

After a two day hunting trip with little luck, Arthur Pendragon wasn't in the best of spirits. Sure, the hunting was terrible, but it didn't help matters that Merlin had, "by accident" left behind some of their supplies at the tavern. Arthur claimed that he'd forgotten because he had been too drunk to think clearly, but Merlin insisted he hadn't been drunk, rather the supplies had been moved by one of the innkeepers.

Regardless of what had truly happened, the two friends had to backtrack a mile or two to retrieve the forgotten goods, for one of the satchels contained a fair sum of gold coins - whatever was leftover from what was gambled (and lost) because of Arthur.

The prince hadn't stopped complaining since then, which grew tiresome for Merlin. Although Arthur did not realize the irony in such a statement, Merlin did. If only he'd known how many times he had saved his life and the lives of those around them; perhaps then he'd be treated with an ounce of respect. Arthur scoffed lightly, shaking his head in dismay. "How you manage to forget everything is beyond me."

Still, Merlin made no reply, rather used to Arthur's backhanded comments. A year ago, he might've protested, but it was much simpler to say nothing until Arthur tired of his own complaints.

They'd left early morning, but now the time was around mid afternoon, and the thought of returning to the castle was inviting. With poor weather and little to no game, the two days had been more than enough for Merlin's liking, though it'd been a nice opportunity to break away from the daily routine of cleaning Arthur's chambers and running errands for Gaius.

The autumn air was cool yet sharp; already there was a thin blanket of snow carpeting the earth. Up above, the darkened clouds hinted that there would be more snow within that day...though hopefully they would return before that. Arthur's voice seemed to face as Merlin found himself wondering about Gaius-when he'd left the fatherly figure, he'd been ill with a cold...hopefully he'd recovered-

_"I knew you were stupid, Merlin, but are you completely deaf too? I'm talking to you." _

Arthur's voice snapped Merlin from his thoughts, and the young sorcerer had begun to reply this time when Arthur pulled on the reigns of his horse. "It's a wonder you don't forget yourself half of the time..." Normally, he would've thrown a few more insults at his manservant, but his voice trailed off and his expression darkened...something wasn't right.

Merlin sensed this as well, stopping his own horse. Eyes wide, he looked the clearing over, ready for some sort of terrible creature to jump out at them. In Camelot, such an occurrence wasn't implausible by any means. "What's wrong?" He whispered, but Arthur only shook his head, shushing him. "Someone's been through here."

At this reply Merlin relaxed a bit, nearly rolling his eyes. Was that all? It was true, there were visible horse tracks scattered about, and much of the shrubbery was newly trampled or snapped...the clearing was definitely different from when they'd ventured through earlier...but it could have been anyone. "So?"

It was Arthur who ignored him now, and Merlin's thoughts were changed as he followed Arthur's gaze, catching sight of what appeared to be traces of blood near the side of a few trees. "Someone's been hurt..." Arthur slid out of the saddle then, wishing to get a closer look. Not far from Merlin's horse, he found what looked to be the tracks of several wagons. "Trespassers, no doubt. Probably bandits." He muttered, frowning as he stood from the inspection. "We should hurry back. We'll need the knights if-"

The sentence was never finished, for at that very moment an arrow whisked right between them, piercing a tree directly behind the pair. Eyes wide, Arthur quickly looked to see where it'd come from, drawing his sword immediately. "Merlin, get down!"

In one moment all previous questions were answered. A pack of bandits charged out of the surrounding area, weapons drawn, faces masked. They did not appear to be Cenrid's men, but at the moment it didn't even matter; they were ridiculously outnumbered.

True to his character, Arthur wasn't going down without a fight, and had already locked swords with one of their attackers. There was a brief struggle before he managed to force the opposing blade off, shoving the thief back into the others. Another went to strike him from behind, but he managed to spin around and cut the assassin down before the action could be taken.

Another one of the bandits pushed forward-a big hulk of a man with cold, sharp eyes. Most of his face was covered, but his eyes were enough to demand attention. "What are you waiting for? He's one man against twenty! Restrain him!" He barked to the others, cursing as Arthur had landed another sound blow.

The remaining bandits went after Merlin. One of the men had ruthlessly shot the warlock's horse in an attempt to stop any means of escape, and the poor beast fell, Merlin with it.

The warlock's breath caught in his chest, winded after hitting the ground so hard. He had enough control over his movement to roll out of the way, right as a blade pierced the earth where he'd once been. As the bandit went to take another attempt in stabbing him, Merlin's eyes glowed briefly, and his attackers fell back, one falling onto his own blade. "Arthur!" Merlin screamed the name, unable to see his friend through the madness of it all. Heart pounding, he scrambled to his feet. Though shaken by what had happened, his thoughts were clear: he had to get to Arthur.

Once he got closer, Merlin could see that his friend was still standing. Through the commotion he saw one of the bandits approaching from the left, and Arthur was oblivious to the upcoming attack. Acting quickly, another spell was uttered, and Merlin raised his hand, the roots beneath the earth raising with the movement. Such a sudden change in the ground resulted in several men falling, and though the circumstances were grim, a small smirk nearly crossed his young face. The way they'd fallen was almost laughable-but the amusement quickly faltered as Merlin was struck hard in the side by the blunt end of a sword.

Several paces away, Arthur had heard the frantic shout of his friend.  
"Merlin!" Teeth grit, he'd managed to disarm another man, but what he saw next forced him to momentarily stop. Merlin was drug into the clearing, a dagger pressed to his neck. "Drop your weapon, Pendragon!" One of the larger men barked, waving a sword in his direction.

Arthur froze, both his mind and heart racing. _They hadn't dealt a fatal blow...what did they want with them?_ As he opened his mouth to reply, one of the men struck him in the back of the head with the hilt of a sword, and with a loud crack Arthur was forced to his knees.

"Arthur!" Instinctively, Merlin pulled against the grip of the thief to get to him, but he was outmatched by the man's strength. Arthur was down, and he could only watch in dismay as his hands were bound. Apparently the murderous thieves didn't want to risk a replay of what had happened; Arthur was a skilled swordsman, having injured many of their own.

Despite the blow, Arthur had managed to stay conscious, although he'd briefly blacked out a moment, fighting to stay awake. "Not so tough without your sword, are you, Pendragon?" There was no response, and the masked man knelt to his level, voice taunting. "I nearly didn't believe it when one of my men recognized you at the Inn...unfortunate you didn't bring more of your friends..." The man rose, nodding towards the left clearing. "Toss him in the back."

"What about him?" Merlin was motioned towards by another bandit, but the man shook his head. "We came for Pendragon. Kill him." A smirk crossed the other man's face, and he drew a crudely carved dagger from his sleeve, approaching the warlock's bruised form.

"No!" Arthur all but shouted, and the leader of the group seemed intrigued by the outburst, motioning for the command to be put on hold. "And why should we do you any favors? You are in no position to be making bargains, boy...you killed one of my men, and now I will kill one of yours."

"Please. He's only a simpleminded fool." Arthur fought to keep his voice steady, his dark gaze fixated on the man. "I don't know what you want...though I have an idea." He growled, knowing it was likely a hefty ransom. "I swear...you will get nothing if you kill him."

A harsh laugh escaped the man, and he roughly grabbed Merlin's chin and forced him to look both to the right and the left, glancing him over a moment. "Very well. If this peasant is so special, we'll triple that ransom from Uther. If we don't get it...well...use your imagination. His fate won't be pretty."

Both captives were forced to stand, then, and after they were searched for any further weaponry, two of the bandits drug them out of the clearing. Merlin cringed in guilt, casting a glance towards his friend. Arthur's head was cast downwards, and the warlock feared he had fallen unconscious.

The two were easily hoisted up and roughly tossed in the back, but not before their hands and feet bound to prevent an escape. The wagon was covered and made of solid wood, though there were signs of previous struggles. Merlin tried to sit up, side throbbing from where he'd been hit. He shivered involuntarily, the sight of the wagon troubling. _They hadn't been the first captives._

"Come on, let's head out! Send word to Camelot...let's find the true value of these two, shall we?" This earned some more dark laughter from the other men, and Merlin could feel the wagon start to move from below...moments before, they were free and on their way back to Camelot...and now they were prisoners, their fate in the hands of these cruel men.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Cave

The darkness was still, and the troubles from earlier ceased to exist.

"Arthur?"

There was a pause, a bit of scuffling around, and then Arthur felt someone nudge him in the shoulder. By a buckled boot, nonetheless. "Arthur?"

Oh for heavens sake.

"What is it now, Merlin?" Arthur grumbled, sounding rather put out. His face hurt from the worn wooden planks and his head still pounded, confusion soon hitting him. Where was he, anyway? They were in some sort a wagon, traveling over rough terrain...the all too familiar voices from earlier were heard and only one question could be asked. "What happened?"

"You were hit in the head."

The prince of Camelot struggled to sit up-a task not so easily done when your feet and hands were bound. There was nothing said as he stared at Merlin a moment, a look of disbelief on his face. "Really, Merlin? Well, I would have never guessed that."

Merlin opened his mouth to reply to the heavy sarcasm, but Arthur went on, in a worse mood than before, and that was saying something. "I _KNOW_ that. What happened afterwards?"

"Not much after that. We were thrown in the back of the wagon...we've been traveling since." Merlin explained in his own calm way, relieved that Arthur was at least alert and well enough to be sarcastic towards him.

Arthur made no reply and frowned, eyes narrowed towards the opening of the wagon. The talking had died down, though from the sound of it, the wagon was pretty well guarded. "How long was I out?"

"An hour, maybe two." Merlin responded, never mentioning that he'd nearly attempted the use of magic to revive him. "It's getting dark...I overheard that they've been traveling well throughout the day." He winced slightly, the pain in his side reminding him of the earlier battle. "They'll have to stop soon-maybe we'll have a chance to escape."

Arthur nodded slowly, looking back towards him. Though the future king of Camelot wasn't in the best of spirits, he wasn't as heartless as he made himself to be. The wince hadn't gone unnoticed. "You're alright?"

"Fine," Merlin replied quickly, not wishing for Arthur to be concerned. "Just worried." He admitted, ready for a backhanded comment about him being cowardly. To his surprise, Arthur didn't give him a hard time, rather he was in agreement for once, a small sigh escaping him. "I'm worried too."

For the next half hour, Arthur made every attempt possible to free his wrists, though he had little to show for it. For all of the work he put into freeing himself, all he had to show were bloodied cuts from the harsh rope.

"It's no use, Arthur." Merlin had told him for the hundredth time, having tried the same thing himself when Arthur had been unconscious. "Even if you do manage to get your hands free, what then?"

Stubborn as ever, Arthur payed no attention to him. "There has to be something in here...a nail, maybe." He suggested, looking around the wagon for some sort of aid. "Anything to cut through."

Before Merlin could search as well, the wagon had stopped. There were voices outside; it sounded like an argument of some sort, though the words were hard to make out.

Several moments later, two stockier bandits had approached the wagon. Arthur felt a rough hand on his shoulder and felt himself being drug out, and the other man did the same to Merlin; forcing him upright as he too was forced towards what appeared to be their new surroundings.

Neither man said anything, though one growled when Arthur had fought back against his grip. "Where are we?" Arthur didn't expect an answer, and right now, it was too dark to tell. The moon didn't cast much light upon their location, although he had a feeling that it was far from Camelot.

"Well, I hope you weren't too uncomfortable." The man from before, referred to as Ghent, looked at the two prisoners as he sheathed a dagger. "Had to settle an argument." He explained, voice chillingly calm. "Now, Pendragon, this is how it'll work out. Tomorrow, my men will send word to your father," he smirked lightly as he saw Arthur jerk towards him at these words, but his men held the seething prince back. "You don't fancy that idea, do you, Pendragon? Being generous, I'll give him 48hours...but if he really is as heartless as they say, well...I'll return ya...but you and that fool of yours won't be recognizable."

Arthur held back his anger this time, though his defiance was evident in his eyes. "You won't get away with this."

Ghent looked from Arthur to Merlin, his tone of voice darkening. "Well, we'll see about that, won't we? No matter how Uther chooses, I'll come out ahead. Either I become filthy rich, or I rid Camelot of its next heir to the throne."

Before either could respond, both prisoners were drug towards a cave, one that had been nearly hidden against the darkness. Arthur could hear more hushed talking; something about the Druids...he attempted to listen in, but he and Merlin were forced to sit down.

The temperature had dropped dramatically from that morning; a fire was started, though it was mainly used for a source of light. Arthur could now see that Merlin's nose and ears had reddened against the cold, and likely his as well. Because of the fire, the inside of the cave was now more visible: intricate markings were carved into its stone walls, there were signs of this having been a camp previously. Though stone, the walls had an odd glow about them against the fire's light.

Merlin was uneasy almost immediately. Something was terribly wrong about this place...he could sense a dark magic of some kind, one that didn't sit well with him in the slightest. "What is this place?" He questioned, his voice barely above a whisper.

"This is..._was_ a Druid camp." Ghent corrected himself, tossing a piece of wood into the fire. "Some fools believe it to be cursed." He emphasized the words as he said this, and a few of his men looked a bit uncomfortable.

Merlin couldn't find any words to reply, the uneasiness growing within his mind. Perhaps that is what the argument had been about. "We shouldn't be here." He spoke automatically, barely thinking before he spoke.

Arthur had been silently brooding, waiting for some sort of opportunity to begin their escape. Merlin's voice broke him from his thoughts, however, but he only considered what he said a moment; Merlin was often superstitious about such things. "And what do you mean by that?" He decided to ask him, raising an eyebrow. To Arthur, this was just another cave; an abandoned camp...he didn't understand nor would he heed the warnings of the runes that littered the walls. Still, Merlin seemed rather shaken up...as did a few of the others.

"My mother was a Druid; this doesn't abide well with me." One man spoke up, gesturing back towards some of the writing. "All of that text? They're warnings...this is a place for those with magic, not without."

Arthur missed the look of fear cross Merlin's face, for the fear that the warlock felt at those words was very real. He...no, Arthur should not be here. None of them should be here. This was a sacred place, a tomb of sorts. Should anything become disrupted or disturbed...

Ghent on the other hand showed no fear, rather he looked increasingly angered, rolling his eyes in disgust. "I've had about enough, Kaiden." He growled, tossing another log onto the fire. "Don't become superstitious idiots; this is an abandoned cave, nothing more." The bandit spoke harshly towards his men, his expressed irritation alone was enough to silence them. "If you want to leave, leave...but don't expect to come back; I won't have any cowards in this lot."

A heavy silence followed, but nobody made a move to leave. This seemed to satisfy Ghent, and he said nothing more of it. "Get some shuteye. Long day tomorrow." He muttered, then cast a glance towards their prisoners. "I want our guests to be guarded at all times...don't want 'em getting any ideas."

Great. There went any hopes of slipping by while the others were asleep. Two men were given the job for half the night's watch, and it felt as if any hope of an escape seemed to dwindle down further and further.

Arthur was mainly focused on escaping; he didn't want to be a pawn in which Ghent would use against Uther. He couldn't allow his being captured to risk the well being of the king, not to mention Merlin. Uther would stop at nothing to get Arthur back, but Merlin...he was just another servant, disposable. Arthur was worth a ransom, and he feared what would happen to Merlin when they did receive Uther's reply.

Merlin hadn't even though that far ahead, for his well being rarely crossed his mind, if ever at all. What troubled him was the words the man called Kaiden had spoken earlier...there was something haunting about this place. There was an overwhelming sense of darkness and despair, a feeling that he could not even put in to words. The runes and scratched warnings that littered the cave were difficult to make out; even more so when the fire was the only source of light. 'Leave...magic...spirit' Those were a few of the words Merlin had been able to decipher, and even then he was not sure.

"The Druids have abandoned this place; they've taken their magic with them, Merlin." Arthur spoke up suddenly. He believed that Merlin feared sorcery, and for a good reason, unlike most of his often expressed fears. "They cannot harm us with magic if they are not even here...why should an empty cave be cursed?" Even though he seemed confident with his own words, he could not deny to himself that there was, admittedly, something strange about this place.

The prince shivered involuntary, eyes searching the room for any possible answers. The cave looked as if it'd been vacant for a good many years; this was likely the first time a camp had been set up by outsiders. By now, most everyone was settled. Nearly all of the bandits had already fallen asleep, and though he'd been out of it for most of that day, Arthur felt his eyelids grow heavy rather suddenly, and from then on it was a struggle to keep alert. "Besides...we have more pressing matters at hand..." He mumbled to his friend, almost drunkenly. "We're leaving."

Merlin's eyes widened as he looked to Arthur, the sudden sign of fatigue was not normal. "Arthur, you have to stay awake," he insisted, his tone urgent. "We have to escape, remember?" For the second time that day, he elbowed the stubborn prat in the side, right between the ribs. "Arthur!"

Upon the impact Arthur sat up straighter as he blinked repeatedly, becoming irritated as Ghent had been. "Stop it, Merlin," he snapped, furious at the sudden force. "I'm the prince of Camelot, you cannot..."

"Arthur, come on. This is the time to escape," Merlin stopped as he heard the clatter of weapons being dropped, and he looked up just in time to see the swords fall from the grasp of their guards, their bodies oddly slumped over as they fell to the ground. It was at this moment in time that Merlin realized something that made his skin crawl. Those men would never awaken

Arthur looked confused at the clanging of the weapons, though he barely questioned why the guards had fallen. The fatigue was overtaking over his senses, but thankfully Merlin hadn't been affected; he knew that those fallen blades would make for a handy tool in which to escape. Moving over as best he could, he outstretched his foot, digging his heel into the hilt as he edged the sword towards them. Carefully he pushed the weapon against the wall, able to now slide his bound hands over the blade. After what felt like forever he manage to cut through the rope, talking to Arthur the whole while to assure he was still with him.

Once his hands were free, he was able to free the rope binding his feet, urgently making his way back to Arthur. "Arthur, lets get out of here," he insisted, expecting some sort of grumbled response. "Arthur?"

There was no reply.


End file.
